John and Cameron Write a Porno: The Christmas Special
by phantomwriter05
Summary: As the Broken apart Connor/Reese family gather for Christmas ... one item of great importance is forgotten, leading to a crusade that could make or break the holiday. Though Cameron seems to find ording Pizza a more logical solution. Jameron. established Sarah/Derek.


_**The other week I was on Skype with a friend I think everyone who's going to read this knows … since he reads every Jameron fic on the site. Anyway he was complaining that there wasn't enough Christmas Stories. **_

_**So I wrote one using the skeleton for a new chapter of John and Cameron write a Porno I was writing. **_

_**If you're wondering, No, you don't have to read the original story to get this. Everything is explained, though I will say I didn't give everything away. First tastes free new guys. **_

_**Let's get on with the story.**_

**Of Train Sets and Pumpkin Pie**

The lights of the city where glittering all around them, gothic structures protruding into the sky, glinting towers in a forest of concrete and crystal. The air was frigid over the dark Chicago night and the occupants of the roof sat close together covered up tightly.

"So what do you think?" John Connor asked. The broad, muscular man's brown vintage leather coat was wrapped around him, a dark blue scarf protected his neck. There was an amused smile on his face as he watched intently the person next to him.

The teenage girl had long ringlets of dark hair that fluttered in the wind and paled skin in the cold. A purple motorcycle jacket, matching scarf, and hip huggers, where hardly protection from the deep cold of the wind coming off the lake they shared the view of. In hand Cameron Baum had a thick slice of Pan Pizza that steamed in the bitter air.

"It's not bad …" She claimed blinking at him.

He laughed bitterly at her. "Not bad … Cam, you drove us out here without warning, practically kidnapped us to go on a road trip with you … all for just tasting that pizza, and it's only "Not bad" is it?" He sighed at his companion, enduringly.

At his response she tightened her cheek. "It's not that it's good or bad …" She studied the pizza. "I can't quantify the experience." She turned back to him.

"In other words you're not sure what you're feeling?" He asked.

"Yes." She nodded.

He smirked. "Give it here." He motioned her to bring the box of pizza his way. But instead, Cameron brought herself closer to him, and moved the bitten into slice to his mouth. Without a thought he let her feed him. He felt a little self-aware as his companion watched him eat, steam blowing in her face from the mixture of the pizza temperature and his breath clouding out with every chew.

"Well?" She asked this time.

He nodded. "Not bad …" He smirked mischievously at her.

She rolled her eyes. "What does that mean?" She complained, clearly not liking being teased.

John swallowed. "Well how am I supposed to quantify it for you, when I don't know what you want me to equate it too." He chuckled clearly enjoying the power over her.

She looked mildly disappointed, feeding him another bite. "Is it like sex?" She asked.

A cough sputtered out of John, to which his cyborg companion patted him on the back. "What?!" he gapped at her.

"Is this pizza like sex?"

"Do you know what sex feels like?"

"Like going to church?"

"Been to many Mass's where it ends with a giant orgy, Cam?"

"No, but I hear Sarah squeal the lord's name sometimes, when Derek puts his hand down her jeans."

"… and now I'll never see another church the same way again."

"John, if I had sex … would I be required to commune with the holy trinity pre-coital, to achieve orgasm? Assuming that's why so many women apparently call out god's name."

"h'okay … Let's just enjoy the pizza, Cam."

After a moment Cameron fed him another bite, to which he smiled. "It's your pizza … don't you want anymore?" He asked.

She almost seemed shy, looking away a moment. "It's just …" She looked back at him. "I like watching you eat." She seemed ever serious about the statement.

With a quirked eyebrow John couldn't hide the grin. "That's a bit weird." He admitted.

"Oprah says everyone's a bit weird." She replied.

John shook his head. "You really watch Oprah?" he asked.

"No, I met her?"

"Bull-shit! Where?"

"At the book store."

"You went to a bookstore?"

"Sarah and I went to a bookstore while you and Derek where finding directions to the Sears building."

"Why would you go to a bookstore? Mom doesn't read … In fact I think the barbarian would sooner burn a book to fuel a fire than actually pick one up."

"She said it was a new dawn and she was going to catch up on all the things she missed."

"What happened?"

"She got distracted by the train sets in the children's section."

"And the circles of the world were circles indeed … So what did you tell Oprah?"

"That her television network is going to be terminated."

"Really?"

"Yes, I read an article in an old magazine at Home Plate in the future once, dated three years from now."

"I'm sure she took it well."

"She asked if Donald Trump sent me."

He laughed and put a strong arm around her shoulder.

* * *

"John"

"John"

"John"

"John"

"HMMM!"

Slowly the Chicago roof top faded into a dark abyss and John Connor at twenty four found there where several things going on around him. One, he could feel he was in bed, the covers up to his waist. Second, he could feel the comfortably familiar material of satin rubbing against his bare chest, and a warm torso underneath the material. Three, someone was shaking his large muscular arm over and over again.

Opening his eyes the first thing that hazily came to view was golden flecked brown eyes staring at something behind him. John found his cyborg protector to be in the familiar position of siting in bed in her satin night slip, his arm thrown across her thighs, head tucked against her belly. He felt the same somewhat annoying weight of his bed companion's smartphone propped against his head.

He grunted and turned to find, piercing blue eyes that where not unfamiliar, but a rare sight. A woman in her mid-thirties with a bed robe stood looming over him and a gentle maternal hand on his arm.

"Ah, whut teh hull?!" John was hazily startled, jumping, his back pressed against Cameron's chest.

Michelle Dixon … or whatever she was now after the divorce, looked sympathetic and awkward, despite the desperation and fear in her eyes. Though the fact was that she had been dating his uncle for a few weeks it still was a bit of adjustment to see her in the mornings.

"I'm sorry, John." She placed a hand on his thigh on top of the covers.

"Michelle … what's, what's going on it's ..." John reached up taking Cameron's hand that had been holding her phone in place against his head and brought around into view.

"It's six in the morning" he finished. He let go of the hand, letting Cameron's arm drape around his neck, hand resting on his chest.

"John, you got to get down there!" She walked to the window.

He rubbed his face, sleepily. "why?" He sighed, laying back against Cameron's chest comfortably.

"It's Charlie … I think Derek is going to kill him." The kind eyed woman said nervously, looking down from John and Cameron's window.

John just rolled his eyes. "Well if we all go back to sleep we can testify we didn't see anything at the murder trial." He yawned and reached a hand back again, playfully shutting Cameron's eyelids. Sinking down into a lying position, Cameron wrapped her arms around John's chest and both pretended to go to sleep.

Seeing the two of them, a blaze of fear and frustration lit the nurse's eyes. "Guys!" She uncharacteristically lost her cool, stomping a foot.

John let out a long agitated sigh at a situation he was tired of policing. "Alright … Alright, I'll be down in a second." He reassured her through a yawn. He heard hurried steps leave the room.

With another long yawn, he felt his body fighting him all the way; telling him those three hours of sleep weren't enough. But when you had a best friend that never slept it was a trend to lose track of time when talking in bed. Cameron untangled her arms from around him and was first up. John struggled to do the same, scooting back to his side of the bed.

"I was dreaming of Chicago." He placed his head in his hands, hunched over in a sitting position, deluding himself that he wasn't really awake.

Cameron turned from her digging through a drawer and watched him. "Was there a fire?" She asked. John just frowned.

"No … when we went up there last year." He chuckled sleepily at her odd comment.

"Oh … are you hungry? We can drive back if you want?" She replied finding what she was looking for, and plucking it out. She walked over and handed it to him, a soft long sleeve t-shirt to cover a shirtless upper body covered with gruesome scars.

He smiled at her. "I don't think anything can top the first time." He seemed incapable of moving his arms so he placed his head against her stomach affectionately. There was a ghost of a smile that crossed her lips, but it disappeared quickly.

"Don't go back to sleep." She stepped away from him, his head lulling at the separation.

He willed his arms to work straightening the shirt to wear. A few feet away Cameron stood sentry at window watching something outside.

"You know …" He sighed with a confused look on his face. "Before that, I had a weirder dream." He seemed pensive.

Turning her head back to John, Cameron seemed to be very interested. "What about?" The cyborg had always been intrigued about dreaming and the subconscious of the human mind. Every morning the first thing John woke up too was Cameron asking what he was dreaming about. Sometimes he thought that the only reason she lays in bed with him all night is so that she could hear about what goes on in his head when she's not with him. John would admit that he felt a little twinge of guilt when he told her that he can't remember and she got that disappointed wince that if you blink, you miss. So sometimes he made things up to make her happy … but this time he couldn't make up what he dreamed about.

"I had a dream that J-day happened … and from the nuclear fires armies of walking Broomsticks with buckets were over running the planet." With a quirk of an eyebrow, he found her brown eyes, expectantly.

"Oh …" Cameron exclaimed softly. "I watched Fantasia on my phone after you fell asleep." She confirmed.

John nodded. "Well that's explains why we all lived in an Old Castle, I had mouse ears, Mom was dressed like Merlin, and you saved me with an army of hippopotamuses in matching ballet costumes." He sighed. But then paused, face screwed up in confusion.

Both exchanged looks, wordlessly, their gaze then fell on Cameron's abandoned phone on top of the covers. The former soldier turned back to Cameron. "You got to stop watching movies on top of my head, when I go to sleep." He frowned.

"Sorry."

With a tired grunt he found his feet and stumbled for balance a moment, before lumbering over to the window in order to share the view of his former protector. Below in the front yard, a tall man in a long sleeve and designer stubble seemed to be in the face of a shorter man with a buzz cut in a motorcycle jacket of black leather. Both seemed to be trying to intimidate the other. Several feet away, a lithe figured woman stood in a matching leather jacket to the buzz cut man, she had pale skin in the cold, and long waving blond hair, stuck under a wool cap. Her sharp green eyes looked irritaded though it masked the clear indecision on her face.

John groaned in mind numbing annoyance, turning to his companion. "I believe there was a plan from last year if they ever pulled this again?" He asked.

Cameron frowned. "We kill Charlie and Derek, pay off Michelle, and hold Sarah prisoner till Stockholm sets in." She supplied emotionlessly.

John gave a long drawn out sigh of regret.

"We should've killed them when we had the chance."

* * *

It had always been customary that no matter where John and Cameron had been in the year and a half since they returned from the future, they would come back to the house that they had bought and subsequently given to Sarah and Derek every year during the holidays. It was John's idea … he had spent many a year alone, missing his family. He knew what it was to have no one to have Christmas with but the mud of a trench and a plasma bolt missing the top of his head. So now that he had everyone back, he wasn't going to waste it.

No matter the family drama or what they had against one another, they all always came back to the house. They did it for John, and no one ever complained … about John that is.

John and Cameron had rented an apartment when they set off for college. It had been a good apartment. The noise wasn't that bad … mostly because Cameron played mind games with the noisy upstairs neighbors. Mind games that John wasn't proud of … especially when she would stalk the drunken guitarist in a grim reapers outfit at night. But other than that it was a good apartment. But as always all good things must come to an end and it would seem that in order to make Cameron's movie … they would have to axe the rent money in order to pay off the camera equipment. This meant one thing …

Moving back home.

It wasn't that John particularly hated home and why would he? He had bought the house himself. His name was on the deeds and on the property surrounding what could be considered a fortress on a hill. But there was a spurned pride to John about having to come home. A part of him saw his and Cameron's little venture as a test into the real world. There were no more machines, no more Skynet, and no more war. He saw it as a chance to see what the rest of life would be like, how he would provide for himself, but more importantly for Cameron.

But returning home, sleeping in the same room he had spent a year in, he felt like a joke. Sure, no one was unhappy to see them return home. Derek tolerated Cameron on his worst days, but Derek had spent his whole life taking care of Kyle and then John … so to have family around was what made Derek Reese, essentially Derek Reese. But there was a nagging feeling of failure in the morning, waking up to the same posters that John had on his wall when he was sixteen, to see all his things he had when he was sixteen. Sure his mom kept his things and technically he had been gone for three months to the present world rather than Seven years in his prospective, but all of It made him feel sixteen again, with the exception of his mother living with Charlie, Derek dating Michelle, and Cameron in bed with him.

But above all the things that John Connor hated about home was what he was standing watching from the front porch. It was the drama that always seemed to plague the machine free Reese/Connor family. Lives that had ended in his timeline, which he had come back and saved, only to see them not mesh in this fool's utopia.

John had the same annoyed expression on his face as he stood in the chill of the winter morning, leaves fluttering across the drive way. He stuck his hands in his lounge pant pockets and shuttered a sigh of contempt. Next to him, Cameron stood watching the former resistance office from a now dead timeline and a Paramedic argue, John's brown vintage leather coat draped around her.

"Should've killed them when we had the chance." He sighed. Cameron tightened a cheek and nodded in commiseration, wrapping a navy blue scarf around her friend's neck. John padded in unbuckled motorcycle boots onto the gravel drive way.

"You think you're tough, huh?"

"Tougher than you."

"I've been through shit, you can't even imagine."

"So was that before or after I took a bullet out of you?"

"And that's what you're good for … cleaning up the mess, janitor?"

"Janitor? You're calling me a Janitor? Says the psycho with a ninth grade education."

"I may only have a ninth grade education … but what's your excuse, Hair Club for Men?"

"That's it … you wanna go?!"

"When you're ready!"

John rushed up and got between the two alphas getting ready to punch the teeth out of one another. Well worked arms of muscle gifted from genetics and lifting heavy objects everyday as a prisoner at century work camp easily pushed apart both men, sending them staggering in opposite directions.

"Alright!" he called after the two of them. He gave a sigh and folded his arms over his chest for protection from the cold. "Let me preface this fight like always with the facts." He began to lecture both Charlie Dixon and Derek Reese.

"First" he turned on the paramedic in annoyance. "Charlie … you don't know how to fix cars or motorcycles." He frowned in disbelief at the man with a shake of his head. "I actually had to secretly redo your work when we worked on cars when I was a kid. Next, you're afraid of guns and you haven't been in a fight since you were eight and got your lunch money stolen in Brooklyn. You're not a badass." He left him with a disgusted scoff.

"Derek" He took a step closer to his uncle. "Pops was a mechanic, grams was a professional cheerleader and chorographer … you were the MC at your eighth grade dance … playing 90's R&B hits. Your first kiss was to a Backstreet Boys song that was on an album that was so cheesy mom bought them in bulk so that we had something to shoot for target practice. At no point in your life do you or will you ever have any sort of street cred to threaten "Hair Club for Men" over there." Charlie growled in protest and Derek just glared at his nephew with an otherwise even face.

Rubbing his temples in circles, John sighed and moved his gaze back and forth. "What is it that's so important, that the two of you are arguing this early in the morning?" Both men couldn't hide their immediate reaction to turn their attention to Sarah Connor standing by herself near the old Jeep she and Charlie rode in.

"You're kidding me." John sighed under his breath. "Derek … you're going out with Michelle, I get it … mom left you at the altar, to go back to buzz cut … but let's keep some continuity." He pleaded. The older man looked guilty for a moment, and John had true sympathy for him. There had been something about Sarah Connor that completed Derek Reese, both self-made soldiers and protectors. It seemed only natural that they ended up together. Michelle was a good woman, but after divorcing Charlie over his pursuit of Sarah now that the world was saved, she was drawn to Derek, both feeling the heart ache.

It was an old anger that built in John Connor, he saved three lives when he came back, thinking everyone he cared for (or in Charlie's case used to care for) would have a happy ending. Instead everything fell apart and people weren't living the happy lives John thought they would. Derek was alone, Michelle was lost without her husband, Charlie preyed on his mother's memories … and Sarah was too chicken to make a choice, a life with a soldier from a war that she no longer had to fight or a man from a life of peace, which never existed. Something snapped in John.

"Guys …" John addressed both of him. "If you're fighting over mom … let me settle it right now." He motioned to Sarah. "She's not worth it." He announced.

Sarah Connor took a step forward. "Excuse me?" She said with steel in her voice. Both men looked rather shocked at his statement.

John was unfazed as he continued. "Boys I've known this woman for seventeen years. At no point in those years has she ever been worth waking me up at six in the morning for." He motioned to her again. Sarah was between shocked and enraged. Charlie looked confused and Derek seemed mildly interested at the rant fueled by a lack of sleep and annoyance.

He took two steps back and presented his mother with a grand wave of his arm. "She's mean, she's spoiled rotten, and she has a very bad attitude eighty percent of the time." He began listing off. "She told me that Santa Clause doesn't exist when I was six, because she didn't think she was getting enough of the credit for loving me enough to buy presents."

"That's not … exactly what happened." Sarah began to protest, but suddenly fell into a defensive silence.

"When I was five, she told me the Easter Bunny was cooked over a hobo fire in Mississippi during the depression." Derek and Charlie turned to Sarah who was nursing a dark glare for her son, biting her lip. "Yeah … true story." John nodded. "She takes bathes with the door open, one time she caught me with a FHM magazine that Cameron had bought as research … and she made me read the articles to her, as punishment. She's never tasted Cereal before in her life, nor will she ever eat it, because rich girl's over here's nanny told her it was low class. She has no sense of humor. She thinks that Beauty & the Beast is a crock because Belle has Stockholm Syndrome, And she told me when I was four that people who get lost in Rural New England get sacrificed to their fertility god, Thomas Kinkaid!'

Derek frowned. "What the hell does that even mean?" He asked.

John shook his head. "I don't know … but I haven't been to New England or an art gallery since!" He let twenty four years of crawling out like the pressure in a tea pot escaping.

"You're looking at a woman who till this day thinks labels on camping equipment say "Fire Retarded" instead of Fire retardant. What the hell is that?" He asked rhetorically.

"It's a thing!" Sarah suddenly protested angrily.

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is!

"What is it, then …" John asked bitterly.

Sarah hesitated. "You know … there's a fire and the heat makes you … stupid and stuff." She shifted her jaw defensively.

"Mom, not only is that not even remotely a thing … people find it offensive when you say it in public!" He turned back to a shocked silent Derek and Charlie. "Which brings me to mention that she refuses to read books."

"You know what? If I had a use for books I would've stayed in college and all of you would be dead right now!"

"You're a Neanderthal!"

"Smart Ass!"

"Derek, Charlie …" John turned back to the two of them. "She'd leave both of you, to run away with me if I asked her too." He waited for a response. Sarah bowed her head conspicuously, Charlie frowned, and Derek nodded his head in complete agreement knowing Sarah's rather random solution to a problem John was having was to mention to him "We could run away together" on more than one occasion.

"Probably not now." Cameron said loud enough for everyone to hear from the porch.

John gave a long sigh. "So you know what?" He stormed over to Sarah who barely had time to protest before John squatted down and slung her over his shoulder and turned. "Kill each other … but I didn't lose sleep over a fight that wasn't worth it." He announced, walking away with Sarah who glared as he carried her away. "Find something else to fight about."

Cameron stuffed her hands in John's coat pockets and watched him pass, focusing on Sarah who looked very pissed at the moment.

"Good morning, Sarah."

"Cameron …"

The girl trailed John as he carried his mother inside, leaving Derek and a very confused Charlie alone in the bitter cold of the early morning.

"Fire Retarded?"

"At least he didn't mention her seasonal obsessions with Train sets … get her in front of one those things especially the kind that go around the tree … and she'll lose time."

* * *

Cameron Baum stood in front of the dining room table staring at the food set there till later tonight when they had the annual Christmas Eve gathering. It wasn't really annual, because they've only done it once since John and she had returned home from the war, but she did quite enjoy herself last time. In fact till the events of this morning she was looking forward to it. Though to be fair Derek, Sarah, John, and herself actually spent Christmas in Chicago last year and only had a small get together, this ended in a John and Charlie fight. John was in the middle of showing Cameron her Christmas present when they walked out on Charlie stroking Sarah's cheek in private. Charlie was married to Michelle then, and Derek and Sarah were seemingly in love.

John punched Charlie's right molar out, and laid him unconscious much to Sarah's shock and later wrath. The night ended badly for the family, which she guessed lead to everyone being separated now. John was down that Christmas morning, Sarah and Derek had fought all night and John sat in his room while Cameron lay in bed with him, quietly nursing his fractured knuckle.

It would seem strange she guessed that she found that Christmas so memorable, but maybe it was that morning when John showed her what he got for them. It was an old Mustang, Cameron was confused then about what they were going to do with it. That was when John told her that they were going to fix it up. Maybe it wasn't the Christmas that she remembered as fondly as it was spending everyday with John fixing it up with him.

As Derek and Sarah fell apart, mostly from Sarah's indecision of what she wanted out of this new life. John focused on his companionship with Cameron and fixing their car. Cameron knew it was because John blamed himself for it all. He had come home and saved everyone he had lost, with her help. It was a long and a bloody affair, trying to manipulate timelines without damaging the outcomes. It nearly killed John several times. She remembered sitting on motel beds, sowing John's wounds, and setting his bones. But when she questioned him, he told her that it was for the best and that it would all work out. Michelle, Charlie, Derek … they were all alive, through John's blood, sweat, and planning. Cameron knew what it meant to him to have these people here. She knew that it crushed him to see it go away in the blink of an eye.

But she was there for John then, he had saved her, left his family, his home … fought in a war and brought her home. She didn't owe him … she belonged to him as far as she was concerned. She was his companion, his friend, his family. He never said it to her, sure, but every night they got under the covers and John would talk to her about things that didn't matter. He'd fall asleep with his arm around her, face buried in her stomach … and it said many things that she didn't need to hear to know.

"Cameron … are you okay honey?"

She blinked and turned to the only person in the world who called her honey. Michelle … whatever she was called now. The former Ms. Dixon was a very pleasant lady for someone who was very unsure at the beginning of her journey of getting to know them. She had an incredible dislike for Sarah, but John and his personality along with Derek's surprising outgoing nature had brought her a long way into trusting them. There were a lot of reasons Cameron suspected as to why Michelle was so nice to her. Sometimes the cyborg pondered if the nurse really understood what Cameron was, or maybe she just didn't have a mean bone in her body, due to the Hippocratic Oath … or maybe she was always so motherly to her, because Sarah never was and she knew it would piss her off.

"There's a problem …" She walked into the kitchen where Michelle was scrambling eggs.

"What's that hon …"

"_WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"_

"_You thought I'd let you get away with it?! _

THUD!

Both Michelle and Cameron looked to the ceiling where it shook with the explosive sound of the wrestling of bodies that could be heard slamming on the floor.

The blue eyed nurse turned to the girl. "Do they always do this?" She asked.

Cameron tightened her cheek. "When John was younger, they did it sometimes … but now that he's older, and a lot more muscular, it's deemed that he's tougher. Many arguments and disagreements have ended in physical confrontations of a less than lethal solution more and more." She explained as the ceiling shook with the clear landing of a body slam.

"You'd think that him being older, would actually denature …" She scoffed.

The cyborg agreed. "They're not for me to understand." She quoted.

Michelle chuckled. "Me either." She shook her head. "Can you watch the eggs, honey … I'm going to go get ready before everyone else gets here." She said. Cameron nodded watching the nurse leave. She never did hear the problem Cameron discovered.

She gave a human sigh knowing that someone should probably be informed of the matter before things got complicated. With a skilled hand she moved the egg to finish them, before turning the burner down low.

DING!

Moving the pan off the burner and disabling the stove, which she learned from Rachel Ray was the first rule of kitchen safety, she went to get the door. She wondered who it could be, being that Christmas often brought strange visitors to their door. One year some Christmas Carolers came to the door, dressed in nineteenth century clothing. Her immediate reaction was that they were Terminators sent back to kill John but had somehow missed their mark like Myron Stark, and where now going door to door looking for him. But luckily had John not come from their place on the couch where they were watching Miracle on 34th Street to see her retrieve Sarah's shotgun, not tackled her to the floor and later convinced the stunned neighbors that she was Jehovah Witness and took her stance on Christmas very serious ... they may have had to move.

But to her surprise it wasn't the same Carolers like last time, though she had noticed they didn't come out this year. It was in fact little Savannah Weaver, wearing white wool ear muffs and a wool lined jacket of plaid, along with … a bushy fake red haired mustache. She clutched a shiny pink package to her chest and smiled when she saw Cameron. With her was a tall man with blond shaggy hair, a matching plaid wool lined coat and a thick rather obnoxious mustache.

SHHHPHHH! CRASH!

Cameron frowned. "Hello Savannah … Hello John Henry." She studied him a moment. "Why are you dressed like that?" She asked the fellow cyborg who she had shared a chip with and now considered a sibling.

John Henry looked down at his apparel. "We're going for a theme this year." He replied in an upbeat tone. He tried to encourage her with an offbeat smile on his lips.

"Isn't that what Halloween's for?" She asked.

BANG!

"I know … I was thinking the same thing, but then Mrs. Leo … she's Mrs. Weaver's assistant she gave me a Christmas Card. Inside was a picture of her family. Her five children were dressed like Reindeer, Her husband like Santa Clause, and she was dressed like a naughty elf." He nodded enthusiastically.

Cameron frowned. "Isn't that inappropriate dress?"

"She had five children … I'm sure it's no secret how she got them."

Cameron nodded in agreement. She continued to study John Henry and Savannah's matching old jeans and plaid shirts.

"Come on guess what we are?" He challenged.

She tilted her head. "From all the plaid and mustaches … I'd guess Lumberjacks." She answered hopefully.

"GET OFF!"

John Henry's face fell. "No, though I was thinking about doing that … but I thought better of it." He looked mildly disappointed.

"There's not a lot of places that allow you to carry axes."

"It wasn't because of the axes as it was, we didn't want to offend any Christmas trees."

"Tree's don't have sensibilities."

"I used to think that, but then Tree Beard enlightened both of us."

"I'm not sure that movie is entirely accurate."

THUMP!

There was a paused silence as both Cyborgs and even Savannah looked off in different directions wistfully. Finally after a moment Cameron spoke again. "I was under the impression we were going to exchange gifts tomorrow … like Human's do." She turned her head in slight confusion.

"We are but, Savannah bought you and John a present … and she wanted to drop it off." John Henry explained. Cameron's gazed focused down on the smiling little girl with the distractingly distinguished mustache.

But despite the known history of Savannah Weaver as the mad scientist of the future who created the liquid metal formula and had her own parents murdered in order to the save the world … a gift was a gift and good deeds shouldn't be shunned as John would say.

"Thank you Savannah." She took the present from her gently.

BANG!

"Can I say hi to John?" She asked hopefully. John had saved her life twice, taught her how to tie her shoes, and while alone in a garage waiting for it to be safe for her to be returned to Mrs. Weaver, had bonded with her even more. Cameron nodded and allowed them inside.

Suddenly the sources of the loud crashing and banging within the house appeared out of nowhere. John was now wearing a Navy blue t-shirt and old jeans, his hair was damp as if he had just gotten out of the shower. He staggered into the entrance hall slamming his shoulders against it, chocking and gaging. A soft cotton long sleeve t-shirt over the slender body of Sarah Connor, clung to his back, her strong arms wrapped around her son's neck in a vice like grip. Her long waves of dyed golden blond hair fluttered unhindered as she rode John's back, her face a mask of determination. Her pearly teeth, slightly crooked from a heavy English ancestry, were biting down lightly on his ear lobe. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to make the man only Eight years her junior very uncomfortable.

"Shoot her Cam!" John wheezed at the emotionless girl watching the mother and son passively. "Shoot her!" He called to her desperately.

"I'm not supposed to get involved amongst you and Sarah's "Playing grab ass" as Derek puts it." She explained to her companion, closing the door. Brushing past Savannah and John Henry she came walking up to John who was backing up against a wall and slamming Sarah against it. Cameron presented him with Savannah's gift. "Savannah and John Henry stopped by to deliver us a gift for Christmas." She leveled him a ceremonial smile she used in public.

"Is … UGH! … Is it a knife I can use?"

"I don't believe so …"

"Then It can wait Cam!"

Thump!

Being no stranger to the Connor's ritual of wrestling one another, John Henry spoke up. "Hello John … Ms. Connor." He waved with the same off beat smile.

"Retard." John coughed at his least favorite cyborg in the world. Old wounds of the machine taking Cameron never closed, though he tolerated him for Cameron's sake. She had no family of her own, being that Sarah and Derek were never going to exactly accept her. So when John Henry and Cameron claimed to have adopted each other as siblings he grinned and bared it … for Cameron.

However, Sarah Connor neither did nor will tolerate the face of the machine that tried to kill her son and kidnapped her as Cromartie. Then once evolved into John Henry, he lured her child away from her. Though John returned three months later … he was no longer the child she knew. For that, she blamed it all on John Henry. Her response to his greeting was a dark glare of deep hatred, which wiped the child like smile off his face.

Turning back to John who was straining to get Sarah off his back, John Henry smiled again. "Hey, guess what we are?" He offered, motioning to Savannah and himself. John stopped struggling, and Sarah loosened her grip in sudden weird confusion when both mother and son got their first look at the matching outfits.

Sarah's glare seemed to be set permanently on her face. "Serial killers from Oklahoma?" She guessed.

John panted a moment. "Yosemite Sam and the father that drove him to his life of crime … and sex change." He shook his head.

Face falling, the cyborg frowned. "No … and inspired, but not right." He pointed to Sarah first, and then seemed to be captured by the imagination of John's reply. After a pause the struggle started again, Sarah locking down on John from his back.

"Get her off!" John chocked, falling to his knees, grabbing the hem of Cameron's night gown.

The little red haired girl watched the mother and son struggle in front of her with a look of shock and at the same time interest. She turned, finding John Henry's hand with hers and then his eyes. "Is Ms. Sarah going to kill John?" She asked loudly.

"No"

"Maybe"

"Yes"

"If a John falls in the forest, does no one hear it?!" the man growled angrily to the three watching him fall to one arm, supporting Sarah's weight.

The woman huffed and puffed. "Say it!" She demanded of her child. "Say, Sarah Connor, my mother and only woman I love more than Santa Clause is worth it!" She bit his ear again.

"You're a … ghh … A hostile dictator with delusions off … godhood!" He laughed defiantly.

"Say it!" Sarah commanded. "Say I'm the queen of everything and you bow to my intellect!"

"You and your distractingly odd shaped rear end will always be monsters to me!" He defied her wishes collapsing to the floor.

John Henry frowned, turning his head to stare at Sarah's blue jean clad rear a beat, before pointing to it, while finding Cameron. The girl lifted eyebrows and nodded in conformation.

With a wheeze and a groan, Sarah appeared again, brushing long golden waves back and behind an ear, staring at John who lay on the floor breathing heavily.

"If you had stripped to your underwear like you usually do … he would've said it hours ago." Cameron advised.

"Shut up, Cam … whose side are you on!" John called from the floor.

Sarah glared and gave a light kick at his torso, to which he grunted. "This isn't over." She said. Turning back you would've never noticed that she had been wrestling with a larger man with the smile she aimed at Savannah.

"Come on honey … let's see if there are any Christmas cookies." She reached out and took the little girl's hand and led her away.

"Savannah … if she tells you there's no Santa Clause … don't listen to her, she's just Jealous!" John called. He grunted when Sarah kicked him again in passing.

After John Henry wandered away, it was finally John and Cameron left alone again. She stood looming over him a moment watching him with a tightened cheek of pensiveness he knew well.

"Are you okay, John?"

"In moment."

"Are you going to live?"

"If I say no, would you avenge me?"

"Yes"

"Then, no"

"Then … you were a good man, John Connor."

"I was wasn't I?"

"You lived a colorful life … that was not painted in full."

"A tragedy really."

"The right man at the right time … especially when making Hot Pockets."

"No one could run that toaster oven quiet like I could … huh?"

"I don't know what else I'm supposed to say."

"You swear a blood vengeance on the person who took me from you."

"If I don't have real blood, does it count still?"

"Probably not."

"Oh …"

"Yeah"

"Well … I'm going to go turn on the train set around our tree anyway."

"Atta girl, and then we play the waiting game."

"Indeed"

Just as Cameron left him, the front door opened, to reveal Charlie Dixon returning to the house, pink cheeked, and numb nosed. Despite being there so early, he had really come to drop off Sarah who insisted to come as early as possible in order to achieve her Christmas Eve tradition of being there when John woke up, which she fulfilled masterfully. But Charlie after his dust up with Derek, returned to his house to go back to sleep till proper and polite hours of arrivals for guests.

"Johnny … are you okay?" He asked with a face squinted in confusion. John had to admit it looked quite strange to come in to find a grown man lying in the middle of the tile floor at the entrance of a house.

"Yep …" He answered shortly.

The Paramedic flicked his eyes around. "Is there a reason you're down there?" he asked cautiously.

"No, I normally … you know just hang out here … it's quite comfortable. I bet it's going to catch on and soon everyone is going to be doing it." He answered sarcastically.

Charlie Dixon's face contorted to a pang of sadness for a moment, maybe remembering the days when John and he were friends. A time John didn't care to remember now, not when his prospective of the world changed seven years on the frontlines. But soon the sadness was supplanted with a hard look.

"Smart ass." He accused. With a sigh he stepped over the younger man and marched toward the kitchen.

"It's better than a dumb one!" the former soldier called after him.

No sooner did Charlie leave then he door to the garage opened and Derek Reese in his trusty green jacket came inside. But unlike Charlie who was confused, Derek just smirked knowingly, shaking his head at his nephew.

"After all that fire retarded crap … did you actually think she was going to let you get away with it?" He said with a sigh.

"She jumped me right out of the shower."

"You were asking for it." He also gave John a kick in the torso in passing.

Getting up from the floor after a moment of collecting his thoughts, John gave a sigh and smirked. Rubbing his neck, he found it hardly damaged. It seemed only his mother could look like she would kill you for breathing and yet restrain herself as not to leave any permanent damage.

Trudging into the living room, John stopped and stared at the eight foot tall monster that was set front and center. His cyborg companion who insisted they get the "Holy Grail of Christmas trees" was forceful in her need to have it shine. He could chalk it up to her watching too much TV, but John secretly figured that Cameron was actually a big fan of Christmas for whatever reason seeing as she had only seen one and it wasn't the greatest in the world.

But it was what was sitting in front of it that tugged a wilting sorrowful smile. He had meant it as a joke and for a little pay back, but he couldn't find a reason to not love Sarah Connor as she sat crossed legged in front the tree. Little steam horn sounds filled the living room gently as a little toy train rolled across small tracks, circling Cameron's colorfully lit marvel of a Christmas tree.

He never knew what his mother's obsession with train sets where, but she loved them around Christmas. The truth was John didn't know all that much about Sarah Connor. She didn't talk much about who she was before him or who his grandparents were. He knew she grew up wealthy. There had been no one like her in her youth, cheerleader, prom queen, media darling of some sort back in the early 80's. But from what he saw in the few pictures he found on the internet she seemed profoundly unhappy. She smiled, with her mouth and not her eyes.

Sarah Connor didn't have a happy childhood, but for a moment when she watched train sets, John could almost touch that unspoiled innocent little girl. Gently John sat next to Sarah, but before she could say anything he took her in his arms. Finding his eyes, she looked young and fresh, unmarked by a hard life of violence and abuse at the hands of a cruel mother. Sarah disappeared into his strong embrace. Still at odds over most everything, John's hug was an apology and a reassurance that she was worth it … to him.

"Uhh guys!"

Both John and Sarah snapped to the kitchen where Derek's voice rung out. With a sigh, both mother and son untangled and padded together into the kitchen where everyone else was gathering around the dining room table.

"There's a problem." Cameron greeted John at the door, leading him to a spot at the table where it became obvious what it was.

Alone unseen till now, sat four loafs of bread, same texture, same shape, but different pans. Next to it was a brown pie under a plastic cover.

"You're kidding me." John sighed.

Sarah squinted, taking the spot next to Derek almost as if automatic. Residual muscle memory of former war partners and Lovers, that didn't escape the scrutinizing notice of their current relationships. "What are the odds that everyone brought Banana bread?" Sarah asked.

Derek scratched his stubble. "I want to know who's the professor who brought the Pumpkin Pie?" He asked.

A scoff left Charlie's throat. "What about it?" he asked.

"It's not a Christmas desert." Cameron frowned.

"Yes it is." He protested.

"Since when?" Derek challenged.

"Pumpkin pie … is a holiday pie!"

"Yeah, a month ago."

"No one thought of making Christmas cookies?"

"Shut up John Henry!"

"Don't get mad at him."

"Savannah's right … It's not John Henry's fault."

"Exactly."

"It's everyone's fault … I mean mom, you don't even bake!"

"Oh I can't read instructions?"

"I believe your pancakes speak for themselves."

"Don't worry, John … I'm sure it's store bought, right Sarah."

"Like that dye job Michelle?"

"You know what?" Charlie interrupted the back and forth. "It doesn't matter who brought what, okay?" he said.

"Said the man who brought the wrong holiday pie."

"I'm sorry did you cover what constitutes a holiday desert in ninth grade or was that upper class?"

"It's common knowledge Charles … or is your brain reseeding with your hair line?"

John sighed over the tangled bickering and motioned to Cameron. Without warning, she let out one of the most terrifying shrieks that one could imagine a butchered pig could make. Everyone Jumped and turned to Cameron with horror struck faces.

"Thank you for your attention." She said in monotone.

"I agree with Michelle." John Henry chimed in while everyone recovered. "It doesn't matter as long as you have the main course which is the turkey, right?" He asked.

"Right" Savannah nodded from her perch on a counter.

"Yeah …" Derek rounded off their comment. "The sleazy Christmas Tree vendor is right." He nudged his head toward John Henry.

"You got it!" the other cyborg said with excitement. "We're Christmas Tree vendors." He confirmed.

Everyone stared a moment.

"Why Christmas tree vendors … why not elves or … reindeer, or Santa?" John asked.

"I just wanted to be different … I mean people are surprised when we tell them what we are."

"The only thing surprising about your get 'up is that no one has searched warrants for a skid row trucker who kidnapped a child." Michelle looked them over.

There another long pause, before Derek got back on topic. "I just went into the freezer into the garage to get the turkey … It wasn't there." He shared a look with Sarah.

"Well I didn't see one this morning." Michelle followed up.

At the mention of the Turkey John and Cameron locked eyes. The former gave a low whistle, scratching his neck, while Cameron looked fairly blank. Tilting his head toward the door the two began to exit the room.

"Hey!" Derek called after them.

John and Cameron wheeled to find all eyes on them.

"Where's the turkey?" He asked.

"Turkey?" John covered. To which his uncle glared.

"What's going on?" Savannah looked around the room.

Derek got a grim smirk on his face. "Twiddle dumb and Twiddle dumber were supposed to get the Turkey the other day." He rotated his jaw with smug accusatory interest.

"That turkey? Oh well that turkey is …" John cleared his throat.

Michelle frowned. "You didn't get the turkey …"

"Michelle Dix … Michelle …" he struggled with her last name, before he waved it off. "I got a turkey!" He replied in shock. "Right Cam?!"

"No"

"Yeah we did!"

"Did we?"

"We did!"

"I guess we did then." She conceded distractedly, looking as if rewinding to see if she missed something.

John nudged her. "Now …" he grunted, which didn't seem to privatize it any more than one might expect in a quiet room full of family and friends watching with a lack of amusement. Cameron stared for an entire half minute before she widened her eyes.

"Oh …" She turned and walked out.

There was a pause as everyone waited.

"This is a turkey right? Not some poorly conceived idea the metal thought up one night?" Derek asked suspiciously.

"No Derek, I don't want to hear about that goddamn turducken miscue from last year, anymore." John shook his head.

Derek crossed his arms. "Oh no here comes crazy Uncle Derek with another rant about the machine … not that she was the one who tried to breed Turkey's and Ducks together last year." He shrugged.

John shook his head defensively. "So she didn't quite grasp the concept, so what?" He shrugged in back in challenge.

"She called it Turken'Jerkin"

"Actually that was me." Sarah sighed in annoyance at the memory.

"It doesn't matter, John … because Cameron spent a fortune on a Duck and Turkey … a Duck and a Turkey and …"

"And she didn't check the sex of them." John finished in irritation.

"And she didn't bother to check the sex of them, John!" Derek ranted. "She bought a high grade Male Turkey and what the sales men described as the "Casanova" of ducks … you know what that meant?" He asked.

"That the duck was male." John answered with a sigh.

"She bought a male duck and a male turkey and tried to breed them together."

His nephew tilted his head. "We did spend a lot of time that holiday season listening to Marvin Gay … didn't we?" He asked thoughtfully.

"I still hear Barry White in my nightmares." Sarah replied.

Hearing there grievances, John turned and glared. "Why are the two of you complaining … She did the greatest feat a breeder could. She actually got them together."

Sarah gave a mock clap of amazement. "Yes, John, and when the chips are down, it's comforting to know that Cameron can foster a cross species homosexual relationship." She seemed completely unimpressed.

"There should be a movie." Derek played off her sarcasm.

"It worked out in the end didn't it?" John asked. "I mean we sat her down told her she couldn't bread turkducken and so she slaughtered them and we had a feast … and don't tell me that wasn't the best turkducken you ever had." He pointed at his parental figures.

Derek scoffed. "Yeah, served as they lived … the duck shoved up the turkey's ass."

Finally Cameron arrived back to the room and handed Sarah an object before returning to John's side. Everyone gathered around to see a turkey made of construction paper. John had seemed to have traced Cameron's hand with a white crayon. Before drawing a tux on it and cutting out a little Santa hat.

"See we got the turkey!" John smiled charmingly.

As if in unison, every person's glare minus the Weaver visitor's seemed to capture the mood of what was turning into a large snowballed Christmas Eve celebration. Then like a bright spotlight of anger, it all fell on John and Cameron at once.

The former officer cleared his throat. "That was funnier in my head." He said to Cameron.

The girl watched him blankly. "What was?" She asked innocently.

John glowered at her. "My best friend." He muttered at the cyborg that clearly left him holding the bag. Quickly John grabbed the pumpkin pie and tossed it at his family.

As he fled the room everyone gave chase.


End file.
